


let's have a team talk

by colazitron



Series: meanwhile, elsewhere in the multiverse [11]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Getting Together, M/M, SKAM Secret Santa, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 15:18:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13216518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: Even is out for some non-alcoholic gløgg with his friends when he catches sight of a pretty blond boy. His friends do what all good friends would: play matchmaker.





	let's have a team talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [warlocked_mundane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/warlocked_mundane/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** I am in no way affiliated with the characters depicted herein or their creators. I made this all up an am sharing it for fun.
> 
>  **A/N:** This one's for your, flor-who-cares! I hope you like it and that you've had a wonderful holiday period. :D

Even is not drunk.

Not in the Even's-totally-drunk-but-convincing-himself-he's-not kind of way, but in the Even-is-actually-stone-cold-sober way. He's not supposed to drink because of his medication, and his friends are not suppose to drink because of their religion, so here the six of them are at this Christmas market, drinking non-alcoholic gløgg like children. It is, if Even's being honest, not as good as the proper wine-y version. Still good, but there's a clear absence that's making his brain go “hey, why doesn't this taste like x?”And in different company he'd indulge in a mug of it at least, but even though he knows none of the boys would mind, it seems impolite. And it's better anyway, that he doesn't. It's easier with the boys around and it's not like they've ever needed alcohol to behave like absolute idiots.

Today, they're actually quite well-behaved. Raucuous, sure, but the boys brought their camera to film for their youtube channel, and there's kids around too, so it's all the PG kind of raucuousness.

The only thing not PG is the thoughts Even keeps having whenever he catches sight of the blond guy a few tables over. He's stood with his own friends, bundled up like everyone else to fend off the cold. There's just something about way he throws his head back when he laughs and how his cheeks are red from cold (and the gløgg he's sipping, possibly) that makes Even want to tear all of those layers off and get to the surely glorious skin underneath it all.

In Even's mind, the boy is spread out on Even's white sheets, hair messy, that red glow in his cheeks for a completely different kind of reason. In Even's mind, the boy moans and pants and calls Even's name. In Even's mind, he knows what to call the boy back.

Is there a way to walk up to someone and introduce yourself without coming off as creepy?

Backing away if the advance is unwanted, probably.

Shit, though, Even's not sure he could take the rejection – especially not with the boys and their camera around. There is absolutely no way they wouldn't film it. And then probably wheedle Even to be allowed to post it, wait long enough until the sting dulls and then it'll be immortalised on the internet. Even can very clearly see the train of events that starts with him walking over to this blond Adonis to ask for his number and ends with literal strangers in the streets stopping him to ask if he's 'that guy from that one youtube video'.

Maybe Even's getting a tiny little bit ahead of himself, but there's a fairly good chance that's an accurate prediction. He knows his friends, alright? So instead, Even tries to stay engaged in the conversation and not make it too obvious that he keeps stealing glances at the boy in question – which isn't easy when looking at him kind of requires Even turn around at least a little bit.

“Okay, so which one is it?” Elias asks, startling Even out of his musings.

“Which one is what?” Even says, faking confusion quite well, if he does say so himself.

“That group of boys you keep looking at. You're clearly into one of them. We're trying to figure out if it's the blond with the large scarf or the black guy with the shaved head. Mikael thinks it's the guy with all the hair, but that's because they think you share an aesthetic when you clearly don't.”

“Um, we both think I'm cute,” Mikael says, making them all laugh.

“You're adorable,” Even says, jumping on Mikael to wrap them in a hug, hoping the moment might pass and the boys will forget their question.

“Yeah, we all agree on that one, but which one of those guys has you craning your giraffe neck every five seconds?” Elias says, dashing Even's hopes.

“Okay, one, you could have at least said swan neck, two, I'm not even that much taller than you, three, it's definitely not every five seconds, and four – it's the blond with the big scarf,” Even says, mumbling by the end as though if he doesn't say it loudly the boys will do him the favour of dropping it. A naive hope, really.

“You're not graceful enough to be a swan, Even, darling,” Elias drawls.

“And it's only not every five seconds because you stare at him _for_ five seconds every time,” Mutta adds.

“You're all terrible and I don't know why I'm friends with any of you,” Even complains, hiding his blush behind the mug of gløgg-flavoured juice. Honestly, who needs enemies with friends like these? Sure, they tease with love yadda yadda. But still!

Yousef slings an arm around Even's shoulders.

“Come on, we're just saying that with how much you're staring, you might as well make a move, yeah?” he says.

“Um, no,” Even says, but snuggles closer to Yousef. He gives really good hugs, even with just one arm. “Definitely not.”

“What, why?” Adam asks, frowning. “You're not usually so shy.”

“He is usually a bit of a disaster though,” Mikael says.

“Yes, thanks, Mikael,” Even drawls.

“Yeah, but you make that work for you,” Elias says with a careless shrug. “Apparently being a disaster is charming when you're a somewhat handsome white boy.”

“I'm definitely not hitting on anyone where you or especially your camera can see,” Even insists. “So you might as well drop it now.”

“Oh, come on!” Elias protests. “We wouldn't do that to you!”

“You absolutely would,” Yousef says, laughing.

Elias gasps in protests.

“How dare you suggest I don't stand by my friends in their times of need!”

“Sure you do, you just also laugh at them,” Mikael points out, but gives Elias a cuddle when he pouts exaggeratedly.

“Anyway, I'm not here to hit on random boys, I'm here with you,” Even says. “We can just drink this gløgg-juice and film your stuff and go home.”

“The only reason I'm letting you get away with that is because you're flattering us,” Elias says, pointing a gloved finger at Even's face.

Even shrugs with a laugh.

“So long as you're letting me get away with it, I really don't care,” he says.

He tries harder to engage in the conversation then, resolves not to look at the boy again, and is a little proud of how he actually manages. It's just some boy. There's no need for Even to get so hung up about the thought that he's almost definitely never going to see him again. There are plenty pretty boys (or girls, or other people) in Oslo, and this definitely won't be the last time Even sees someone he wants to cuddle and see naked.

To Even's surprise, the boys do actually drop it. The conversation runs its natural course and then they start filming their little “Christmastime in Norway when you're not a Christian/a Muslim” video. Even is on camera duty for this one, for very obvious reasons, so he just follows the boys around, focused on the tiny screen of the camera and holding it steady, all thoughts of the boy forgotten.

“Okay, I think we're done,” Elias says eventually, glancing around at all of them, the extra cheery smiles fading a little. It's surprising how exhausting it can be, being on camera in this way. It's probably because they've made their amped up energy their Thing, so now they sort of have to be that in every video they post, but Even's been in a few of their videos and was always surprised by how much he just wanted quiet afterwards. It's a bit like excessive socialising. Fun, and Even wouldn't miss it, loves it actually, but after the initial surge of energy there comes a point where you just kind of want to say 'enough now' and quiet things down a bit. Go back to chilling.

“A last round of gløgg-juice?” Adam suggests to various mumbles of agreement.

“I vote Even gets it,” Elias says.

“Seconded,” Mikael immediately pipes up and is followed by three more murmurs of agreement.

Even sighs but hands Yousef the camera.

“Fine. You're lucky I like you,” he says and then turns to find the gløgghus.

He's already almost all the way there when a shout of 'Isak!' and a flash of blond hair at the edge of his vision catches his attention and he turns to see – the boy from before whirling back around to his group of friends.

There is not a doubt in Even's minds that the boys did this on purpose.

“Get extra raisins!” Isak's ( _Isak's!_ ) friend calls after him and Isak throws his hands up exasperatedly.

“The same as the last five years you mean?! Yeah, I know!”

Even sees the crash coming before it does, watches as Isak whirls back around and trips over the uneven ground, hands flailing out to keep his balance and taking one of the ornately decorated Christmas trees down with him when he loses out against gravity and falls to his knees with a dull thud. He's sort of in Even's path, or maybe Even's path took a little detour. The scenic route, if you will, what with Isak still on his knees in the snow, pushing himself up from his hands to examine the damage he did to the Christmas tree.

It's one of the smaller ones, at least. Barely taller than waist-high, which is really not the best choice of decoration for a crowded area if you ask Even.

“Are you okay?” he makes himself ask, kneeling down to pick up some of the (plastic, at least that choice was a smart one) ornaments that Isak knocked off the knocked-over tree.

There are a few people watching them, a group of girls whispering behind their mittened hands, but Even notes uncharitably that noone but himself came over to offer Isak help.

“My knees or my pride?” Isak asks, voice heavy with sarcasm in a way that startles a laugh out of Even.

“I mean, whichever you need more,” Even quips back, eyes going wide when Isak looks up to meet his gaze with an equally wide-eyed stare.

“Um. I mean,” Even says, wracking his brain for a way to take the innuendo back out of that sentence and drawing up frantic blank after frantic blank.

Isak's wide-eyed look of surprise morphs into one of amusement.

“Yes?” he asks. “What did you mean?”

“Well, technically speaking, knees are a lot more useful, right?” Even blusters on, trying to paste on a charming smile. “Like when you knock something over and you need to pick it up.”

Isak laughs, and Even dares grin at him a little more, a pleased fluttering in his belly. If nothing else, he's made the pretty boy laugh, at least. Maybe he'll be a footnote in this story when Isak tells it to other friends over more gløgg.

“True,” Isak concedes. “Thanks, by the way, for helping. I'm not usually this clumsy.”

“I am,” Even says with a shrug, making Isak huff another laugh.

Even hands all of the ornaments he's gathered to Isak and then rights the tree again, making sure it stays up. It's a little wobbly, but so long as no one else bumps into it it'll be fine, Even thinks. The string of fairylights wrapped around it needs straightening out before they can put the ornaments back on it, and Even maybe possibly takes a little more time to do it than it really needs. It's not art, it's just gløgghus decoration, but the longer he's here, crouching by the tree and Isak's feet, the longer he can try and psyche himself up to at least introducing himself to Isak by name.

And the longer he has to think about how he probably shouldn't make this random boy stand here longer than he absolutely needs to with a stranger. But Isak's also not making any moves to hurry it along.

“I think it's still a little crooked on the other side there,” he actually says, and Even looks up to him to catch his eyes and try and get a read on the situation.

Isak doesn't make it easy, but he doesn't look away from Even either.

Even licks his lips and then nods carefully.

“I think you're right,” he says, and gets up to his feet, lets Isak see that he's actually a little taller than him, and then steps around him and the tree both to crouch back down and fiddle with the lights.

Isak watches him and nods when Even looks up for approval.

“Perfect,” he says. “Will you help me with these too?”

Isak holds out the ornaments he has cradled in his hands, and Even gets back up with a bright smile.

“Sure. We have to see this through now, right?” he says.

“Right,” Isak agrees.

“I'm Even, by the way,” Even makes himself say, heart thudding away in his chest.

“Isak,” Isak says, so now at least Even doesn't have to feel too guilty about already knowing what to call this fantasy of a boy.

Up close he's even prettier, actually, and Even takes a moment to steal a glance when Isak's focusing on hanging a reindeer ornament.

His nose is straight and almost a little upturned at the end, his eyes clear and bright. High cheekbones and a strong jawline. Lips that look like the pretty bow of them has been painted on for him by an enamoured angel. The blond hair that peaks out from under his dark blue beanie hat is actually curly and makes his entire face look somehow soft.

They work side by side in silence and it honestly doesn't take any time at all before the tree looks presentable again. Even knows this is the point where he either walks away or speaks up, but he can't for the life of him figure out how to say 'wanna ditch your friends and make out somewhere?' in a way that might lead to success.

“Are you on gløgg duty too?” Isak asks before Even has to say anything. “My friends sent me over because I apparently have the biggest hands.”

Even laughs and tries not to stare too obviously at Isak's hands, or at least not have the thoughts on what those hands could be doing to Even spelled out on his face.

“My friends didn't even bother giving me a flimsy excuse. Just 'Even should go', and apparently we're a democracy,” he says.

Isak laughs.

“Shall we then?” he asks, and motions towards the hus.

Even nods and leads the way, heart beating when he feels the heat of Isak sticking close like he's looking for excuses to prolong this encounter too.

Isak orders four alcoholic mugs, and Even gets six non-alcoholic ones. Isak, to his credit, doesn't raise an eyebrow or ask why Even and his friends aren't drinking, just takes it in stride entirely. Even mentally curses his friends for making him get all six drinks by himself, Isak or not, curling the fingers of each hand through three mug handles and pressing them together in front of his chest like he's seen people serve beer steins. When he and Isak make their careful way back outside, Even looks up and actually curses his friends out loud.

“Oh, those fucking---” he snipes before he can think not to do that, halting in his tracks.

“What?” Isak asks, peering at him with a little concern.

Even blushes, because now he has to _explain_ , but what else is he supposed to do? He has six mugs of gløgg-juice and no one to hand them to.

“My friends ditched me,” he says.

“They did what?!” Isak asks, eyes going wide. “That's so rude!”

Even chews on his lip.

“Well, they--” he starts and then stops, feeling his cheeks go hotter under Isak's curious gaze.

“They what?” Isak asks, looking a little suspicious now.

Even sighs. If this goes south he can just go back and try and swap all six mugs for the alcoholic kind and drink himself into forgetting.

“They noticed me looking at you earlier so they sent me to fetch more when they saw your friends were sending you as well, to make me talk to you,” he confesses.

Isak stares at him and takes an agonising five seconds to process that information.

“You were looking at me?” he asks then.

Even shrugs as well as he can while holding six steaming mugs.

“You're very pretty.”

Isak blinks in surprise, like he wasn't expecting the admission, and then glances over his shoulder at his own group of friends that are caught up in a flurry of greeting a group of girls, apparently.

“Okay,” Isak says. “How about this. We go dump all of this gløgg with my friends, because apparently there's enough of them now, and then you and I go and get something to eat? I can't quite tell if you're just that handsome or I'm just that tipsy.”

There's a teasing edge to Isak's smile, like he's erring on the side of Even's handsomeness, and Even doesn't hold back on his answering smile.

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” he beams.

Isak looks at him for a little more like there's something he's trying to figure out about him without actually getting anywhere, but then shrugs himself.

“Okay, then follow me,” he says, and turns, weaving his way through the crowd back to his friends.

“Make way!” he calls loudly when he reaches them, shouldering his way past his friends to the little bar table they're all gathered around and puts his four mugs down.

“These four are with alcohol,” he says, and then waves Even over. “And these six are without. Have fun. I'm leaving.”

His tone brooks no argument, but there's clearly at least a hundred questions his friends want to ask, and Isak isn't fast enough in extricating himself from the situation.

“You're leaving?” the other blond guy asks, eyes flicking back between Even and Isak. “Because of this hottie? You're ditching us to flirt?”

“Shut up, Magnus,” the one with all the hair who called after Isak earlier groans and nudges the other blond with his elbow.

“It's chill, Isak, we'll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he says

For a brief moment Even wonders if hair-guy is trying to subtly let him know that Isak will be missed by at least eight, nine? people if he doesn't show up tomorrow, but then he looks around the group of people and catches sight of Sana.

She's already smiling, clearly amused.

“Hi, Even,” she says.

He laughs a little.

“Hi, Sana,” he greets her back.

“I thought you were here with Elias?” she asks, grinning a little more.

“I thought so too,” he drawls, making her shake her head fondly.

“So do I give him hell when I get home or thank him?” she asks.

Even huffs a laugh and glances sideways at Isak, who's following the back and forth curiously.

“I'll let you know,” he says, and then takes Isak's hand, pulling him away. Isak's friends seem great, especially if it's a group of people that like Sana, but he really wants to get to know Isak first.

Isak smiles at him and follows easily.

“Don't do anything I wouldn't do!” one of the girls calls after them with a laugh, prompting a comment about how that leaves room for a whole lot and a salve of laughter.

“Your friends seem nice,” Even says, unsure if he's supposed to let go of Isak's hand again now that he's accomplished his goal of getting Isak away from them.

Isak just shifts his hand in his hold and holds back though, so it's probably fine to stay like this.

“Yeah, they're pretty good,” Isak says. “We've known each other since upper secondary, most of us.”

“Yeah, me and my friends too,” Even says.

“That's how you know Sana?” Isak asks.

“Hm, yeah. Her brother's one of my best friends.”

“Well, good, that means you probably didn't make them up,” Isak teases.

Even gapes at Isak, all faux-offence.

“Is that what you thought? I would never, Isak.”

“It seemed _very_ convenient for your friends to have vanished,” Isak points out.

Even groans.

“That's because they're pushy assholes, not because they're imaginary.”

As if on cue his phone beeps with a text and when Even fishes it out of his pocket with a mumbled 'sorry', it's a message from Yousef in their group chat.

 

**Are they helium balloons?**

**Yousef** : If you struck out, we're heading back to Elias' and we're very sorry.

 

Even grins to himself and then turns the screen to show to Isak.

“See?” he says.

“Wow,” Isak says. “Your friends are even pushier than mine.”

“Your friend with the hair seems protective,” Even says with a smile.

Isak smiles fondly.

“Jonas, yeah. We've known each other since before I can remember, so we've seen each other through some tough shit,” he explains.

Even hums a little and nods.

“I haven't known the boys that long, but I get what you mean.”

Isak nods a little and their pace slows a bit as they each get lost in their minds for a moment. But this isn't what Even hoped to accomplish by getting Isak alone, so eventually he bumps their shoulders together and smiles when Isak looks back up.

“Can I take a selfie of us to send them back?”

“Won't they be terribly obnoxious if their plan worked?” Isak asks back.

“Probably, yeah,” Even admits with a sigh. “But they'll find out eventually.”

“Oh? You're that confident it's not just the gløgg, are you?” Isak teases.

Even dares smile at him and shrug.

“I'm hopeful,” he says.

Isak smiles back, tilting his head just the tiniest bit so he's looking at Even through his eyelashes.

“Yeah, me too,” he says. “Alright, let's take that selfie.”

“Really?” Even asks.

Isak nods decisively and slots against Even's side.

“Absolutely. We'll take the best selfie ever.”

“You don't aim low, do you,” Even says with a laugh and pulls up his camera, putting a careful arm around Isak's shoulders.

“I have standards, Even, and I'm the master of taking selfies,” Isak insists.

“Well, then,” Even says, holding out the phone so both their faces show up on the screen, next to each other and slightly grainy in the bad lighting. He stumbles them back a few paces so they're not quite so back-lit from the street lamp behind them, though it doesn't really make it all that much better.

Even watches Isak turns his face towards him on the screen and just as he's about to ask Isak what he's doing, he sees and feels the cold tip of his nose dig into his cheek, followed by his warmer lips. Isak's eyes are closed and he looks like doesn't have a care in the world, entirely focused on kissing Even on the cheek.

Even taps the release button without thought, then again after he's schooled his features into something other than slack-jawed surprise. He can feel and see Isak smile a little against the small puff of his cheek.

When Isak pulls away Even can still feel the touch linger on his cheek.

“You weren't lying,” he says, flicking through the photos and only slightly embarrassed at how rough his voice sounds.

“Told you,” Isak says, leaning in close to inspect the photos too.

Even has to glance at him to see if he's a little flustered over this as well, and finds a spot of red high on his cheeks. Sure, that might be the cold biting at his skin, but it might also be the same thing that's squirming around in Even's belly, making him wish he'd get to feel those lips against other parts of his body too.

“That one?” Even suggests, picking one where they're both smiling.

“Yeah, sure,” Isak says. “They won't know what hit 'em.”

Even quietly agrees, but turns his phone to silent after he's sent them the photo in response to Yousef's message anyway. He's not interested in their excitement right now, not when he has Isak to concentrate on.

“Now, I believe I promised you food?” Even says, and grabs Isak's hand again.

Isak looks down at their hands and then back up with a little smile.

“You did, yeah,” he says. “I've got to sober up before I think to kiss you anywhere else.”

Isak freezes as soon as the words are out of his mouth, and Even can't bite down his own grin. Good to know he's not the only one with foot-in-mouth syndrome.

“I look forward to meeting sober you, then,” Even says and holds eye contact for a few heartbeats.

Isak relaxes, and when they start walking again, their shoulders brush together more than just occasionally.

Even can't stop thinking about it, especially not when they both realise at roughly the same time that sausages are probably the most suggestive food they could possible have right now, but it was also the first thing they found, and the grill smelled so good. They're both adults though, and there are children around, so Even nudges Isak's knee with his own where they're sat on a bench a little ways away from the grill and smiles at him.

Isak laughs and nudges him back, and goes on with the story he was telling him about Jonas' old weed dealer Elias (who was decidedly not Sana's brother Elias, although Sana has previously been involved in Isak's weed shenanigans, but that's a different story, Even, let me finish this one first) in between bites. Isak tells the story with enough lively commentary and that dry, sarcastic tone to his voice that Even's becoming more and more enamored with by the second, that Even doesn't even think twice about the rather phallic food they're both munching on. Only the grease that makes Isak's lips shine doesn't quite escape his attention.

He's pretty sure the gløgg thing is just an excuse, because Isak doesn't actually seem all that tipsy, but either way Isak's clearly playing it careful, and Even is not about to push. But when Isak asks Even if he wants to walk him home when they're done and get back up, he's not about to turn down the opportunity to spend more time together. And maybe there's a spark of hope that Isak picked that destination for a reason.

On the way to the flat Isak shares with a friend of his, Noora, who's probably still out with all their other friends, a piece of information Even dutifully files away but doesn't comment on, Even tells stories of the short films he's made with Mikael and Elias over the years. Isak laughs at the funnier bits, but he never seems like he's not taking Even seriously, follows his small rants in between anecdotes and listens to what Even has to say in a way that's making him feel like he's walking on clouds.

A flirtation with a pretty boy is one thing, but the kind of earnest attention Isak gives him is an entirely different kind of heady rush.

Finally, Isak tugs on Even's hand and makes him stop.

“Well, this is me,” he says, and leans against the half of the large double door that doesn't usually open.

Even doesn't really know what to say, tries not to read too much into how Isak's looking at him with hot eyes and slow blinks, but he takes half a step closer.

“I'm glad you knocked over that tree.”

Isak grins a little.

“I'm glad your friends ditched you.”

Even huffs a laugh and shifts a little closer again, toes of his shoes almost bumping into Isak's before he looks back up into his face again.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Isak says, more breath than voice, smelling like gløgg spices and grease and still somehow like the most delicious thing Even can imagine right now. For a moment they just hover there, hovering in between this and more.

“Do you want to kiss me, Even?” Isak asks, hand still holding Even's.

“Not if you're still tipsy,” Even says, teasing a little, but also not.

Isak smiles at him.

“No, I think it is actually just you,” he says quietly.

It feels like a confession, and Even can feel himself blush in response, the idea that he can make Isak feel like that – light-headed, light-hearted, happy, fluttery things in his belly – somehow overwhelming.

Isak reaches up with his free hand to grab Even's coat and pulls him forward into a kiss. He doesn't just smell like gløgg and grease, he tastes like it too, lips soft and warm against Even's, moving with his languidly, opening to Even's tongue when he tilts his head and pushes a little deeper. Even puts his own free hand on Isak's face and the other one on Isak's waist when Isak lets go of his hand to put both of his in Even's hair and then moves one of them to his back to pull him in closer.

They lean against the door and kiss for so long that Even forgets how cold his feet are and then remembers again. Long enough for both of them to start breathing more heavily. Long enough for Even to get hot under his coat and wish he could start peeling their layers off.

“Can I see you again?” he manages to ask between kisses, trailing his nose over Isak's cheek and kissing the line of his jaw.

Isak nods against his face.

“Yes, please,” he says.

Even grins to himself and dives in for another kiss, straightening his back so Isak has to tilt his head back further, delighting in the way Isak matches him bit for bit.

“How do you feel about breakfast?” Isak asks breath hitting Even's mouth.

“Generally positive,” Even says, and then pushes closer and decides to chance it. “Especially when it's in bed.”

Isak grins and nips at his lips.

“How fortunate. I have a bed upstairs.”

“You do? That is fortunate,” Even says, grinning himself, and kissing Isak again.

Isak lets him for a bit but then pulls back again.

“Want to come upstairs?”

“Very much,” Even says, and lets Isak squirm out of his hold to dig his keys out of his pocket and lead them up to the flat.

It is, like Isak predicted, blessedly empty, but Even's pretty sure they'd have forgotten if it wasn't about five minutes after Isak closes the door to his room and drops the first article of clothing, eventually revealing miles of skin even more glorious than Even imagined. At some point Isak's mouth stops tasting like gløgg and grease, just tastes like sex and desire. Even keeps kissing him until both their mouths are raw and smiling perpetually, until they're both sweaty and a little gross, but happy to be entangled in each other.

When he wakes up, he makes them breakfast to have in bed and not-so-secretly hopes it'll be the first of many.

 

**The End**


End file.
